


Frail, Heartsick Things

by Val_Creative



Series: Warlock & His Dollophead [29]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Established Relationship, Food Kink, M/M, So Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 02:46:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1712096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin was the most useless housekeeper Arthur had the displeasure of hiring, even if there wasn’t a single wrinkle in Arthur’s jumpers, even if his honey-cakes were superb, even if Merlin had been dismissive about the insults, flinging back his own with a shit-eating grin. He had this way of quelling Arthur’s worries about being Britain’s next great leader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frail, Heartsick Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitsuneshadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsuneshadow/gifts).



> (A very special thank you to my friends on Skype who encouraged this on, even when I was whining, and The Merlin Family as well as The Warlock and His King Network on Tumblr for being a wonderfully excitable bunch ❤ ❤ ❤ )
> 
>  
> 
> Day #29: "with food"

*

 

It began when Merlin, out of spite, flicked a dollop of honey at Arthur.

Arthur didn't know _what_ Merlin's problem was—he thought Merlin looked particularly comely in a girly apron.

The stove-warmed honey landed square on Arthur's nose, leaving him aghast and his personal attendant in great peals of laughter. And then, by decree of his royal blood, Arthur engaged in a campaign to restore his honour.

Because, as far as he was concerned, Merlin had never worked a day in his life until now—cataloging a public library wearing your earphones and singing off-key _didn't_ count—and he had no refined social tendencies, while stumbling about verbally. Absolutely no regard for decorum or respect for his betters. Gaius asked for Uther to board his nephew at the estate, and his father agreed (he trusted Gaius's counsel more than he trusted his own bloody physicians) as long as the boy was _useful_ in some manner and earned his keep.

Hence, Merlin becoming the crowned prince's shadow, reluctantly following Arthur's orders, cleaning his quarters and bringing him meals.

Except shadows never _kept prattling on_.

Merlin was the most useless housekeeper Arthur had the displeasure of hiring, even if there wasn't a single wrinkle in Arthur's jumpers, even if his honey-cakes were superb, even if Merlin had been dismissive about the insults, flinging back his own with a shit-eating grin, and had this way of quelling Arthur's worries about being Britain's next great leader.

The turmoil of this country deepened, exploding with political riots and bombings. Groups of terrorizing anti-monarchists led by a woman who called herself Nimueh, who _knew_ Uther Pendragon's well-hated dictatorship and his security plans extensively, who had been once an ally and friend to Uther. Arthur knew virtually nothing of the bad blood between them. _Why_ she knew his mother and why Nimueh hated Uther so much. The last time he tried to breach the subject, his father nearly struck Arthur, overcome by his rage and fear.

There were heavily bound envelopes from the Merica representatives, from Lord Bayard and his heir, written about Nimueh's outright threats and requesting an audience. Most likely to discuss further plans to eliminate her resources. Arthur still needed to pore over them, go through all the necessary protocol, but he was a tad _preoccupied_ at the moment.

Or more importantly, he just found his opportunity to sneak up on Merlin from the secret compartment in the pantry.

Merlin let out a noisy, helpless squawk, feeling a burly arm encircle him from behind and pin him. He winced as two chicken eggs from Arthur's hand smashed into his hair.

"You— _bastard_!"

"Careful what you say to me, Merlin," Arthur breathed out, smirking and pressing insistently into Merlin's long, lean back in his hold. "We wouldn't want to have that tongue removed, now would we?" Arthur's right hand crept down, grasping Merlin's hip as the other man grunted out a chuckle, slowly pushing his ass back into Arthur's rocking sways.

"Eugh, don't think you'd enjoy that," Merlin said, black curls dripping yolk, skin flushed pink. He peered over his shoulder, smugly. "Seeing how fond you are of it, your highness…"

Arthur's face went hot, as did his groin tightening, remembering the delightful truth in those implications.

He didn't need to worry about the pair of them being caught, or video cameras, not in the closet-kitchenette attached to Arthur's suite quarters.

Arthur's broad hands rubbed up Merlin's clothed sides, disappointed by the barrier keeping him from his partner's lovely, soft skin. _Partner_. Arthur had gotten used to thinking of Merlin like that.

"There's not a lot of you to be fond of—what the _devil_ —!"

Arthur found himself careening onto his backside, Merlin's legs splayed out to his torso. He held a flour-covered rolling pin with both hands against Arthur's throat.

Where did he even get—?

"Do you want to give up?" Merlin asked, voice even, no longer grinning at him. But still with an undeniable, cheeky glint in his eye.

"To you?"

"Do. You? Do you want to give up, your highness?"

Arthur groaned, eyes looking upwards. He half-considered shouting for Geraint or Cador except this was _Merlin_ , and the dolt might be a few marbles shy, but he was a loyal person. Loyal enough to take a revolver bullet meant for Arthur last year, in the middle of a outdoor crowd. He remembered Merlin tearing around the guards and Uther, yelling and shielding Arthur with his front, arms outstretched and then collapsing with a boom. The wound bled out fast, darkening the concrete in so much red Arthur's head spun.

He could do nothing, staring blindly as the paramedics took Merlin. They were the only ones who could have saved Merlin. Uther's fingers had gnarled and clutched at him, heaving Arthur in another direction. Merlin lived. Merlin returned to the estate during the summer, perhaps a little more gaunt in expression, dark stubble having grown across his jaw.

Once alone, Arthur sank against his feathered bed with him, finally giving into the urge to kiss Merlin. And Merlin kissed him in equal clamor, tugging and raking Arthur's hair, sliding deep inside his mouth and licking against Arthur's molars. He murmured apologies and about frail, heartsick things Arthur didn't believe he could allow himself to feel.

Arthur decided then and there… he wouldn't ever stand by and _allow_ that to happen again. Not to Merlin or another person he cared for.

He would not allow someone to _die_ for him needlessly, not as the future king.

Merlin watched him curiously, still holding down the pin. A smudge of chocolate fondant on his temple.

"You still in there, dollophead?" he asked, fingers drumming.

With a quick, growling thrust, Arthur shoved off the item from his throat. He wrapped a leg to Merlin, cupping his neck with one hand and pulling him in. Merlin tasted like warmed honey and caramel, and it was likely what he nicked out of the mixing bowls. Merlin tenderly mewled against his lips, helping undo the lavender-fabric knot to his apron.

"Be quick about it," left him as a command, strained because of what Merlin's hands were doing to him.

Merlin cocked an eyebrow, stalling from reaching and fondling Arthur's balls. It was a little frightening how efficient Merlin could unbutton or remove his garments.

"You got somewhere to be?"

" _Mer_ lin." Arthur gazed up, exasperated. "For fuck's sake," he started, and then went quiet, lips biting as Merlin rut their hips together. Bare cocks jerking and slipping up.

"Good fuck is what you need, hmm?" Merlin said, faintly mocking, "Am I your paramour, _sire_? Open my legs for you but shut my mouth?"

Arthur heard a mutter from himself, edging close to panting.

"I hardly think you're capable of keeping your mouth shut for more than five minutes, so I wouldn't expect that out of you."

That was apparently the _right_ insult, because Merlin's face tempered, and he mouthed Arthur's jaw in a fluttering series of kisses. He came to a release, slicking the material of Arthur's jumper and his stomach, whispering Arthur's name over and over as if it were his beloved psalm. Arthur held him through it, feeling their bodies cool, their semen mingled.

Merlin's loud huff of breath to his ear twitched him. Arthur rubbed at the appendage, not quite perturbed, but more of his lower back aching on the tiled-floor.

"Uther expects you to marry your _queen_ before your thirty-fifth birthday."

"I haven't forgotten," Arthur told him, calmly. He wanted to vanquish the hurt in Merlin's features, the sense of being painfully lost. "I could easily make you my royal consort." Arthur's fingers soothed over Merlin's chest, right where the lumping ridge of scarring discolored Merlin's fair skin. "It's legal in documentation."

"But not in their eyes." Merlin was right, of course— _rarely so_ , but he was. Parliament as well as Uther's advisers would be far from approving. The media would hound them, sniffing out any dirty rumors or accusations. Arthur frowned as the other man tilted his head away. "It would be easier if I was carrying your illegitimate child," Merlin said, bitterly.

"I rather fancy you as you are, Merlin."

He emphasized his point with a quick, gentle tug on Merlin's wet, over-sensitized cock, earning him a hard swat and whimper.

If Merlin _wasn't_ in line to be his future consort, Arthur may have had him dropped in a vat of hot oil for that.

"I'd say yes," came a softer, more vulnerable tone than Merlin used. Arthur witnessed him fidget atop him, chewing his lip. "If, if you asked me—I mean. I don't imagine I'd say no."

"I should hope not."

"Then _yes_."

Arthur couldn't help the ridiculously joyous grin, sitting up and taking heart when Merlin's arms immediately go round him, clinging.

No man could know their destiny, but Arthur had hope in the one he would pave out with _this_ man.

 

*


End file.
